UNWRITTEN CONNECTIONS

THREADS OF SOLACE

The soft hum of her computer filled the room as Ava leaned over her desk, her fingers flying across the keyboard. Her workspace was a mix of chaos and creativity—sticky notes plastered around her monitor, sketches of app designs scattered across the surface, and a half-empty mug of coffee sitting precariously close to the edge. The faint scent of lavender from a nearby candle mingled with the sharp aroma of caffeine, grounding her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

For Ava, work wasn’t just a distraction; it was a lifeline. In the months following her breakup with Jason, she had thrown herself into her projects, letting the demands of her career fill the empty spaces in her life. Each new challenge, each new idea, was a way to prove to herself that she could still create, still move forward.

Her latest venture, Unwritten, was her most ambitious project yet. Designing an app that encouraged people to connect through handwritten letters felt personal, almost sacred. It reminded her of the nights she had spent pouring her heart onto paper, of the letters Jason had written during their happier times. But this wasn’t about Jason anymore—it was about her. About finding a way to bring authenticity back to a world that often felt too polished, too artificial.

Still, as much as work comforted her, it didn’t erase the questions that lingered in the quieter moments. Had she made the right choice in letting Jason go? Would she ever find someone who truly understood her drive, her need to create?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar chime of her phone. Picking it up, she saw a message from her older sister, Lily:

“Dinner at Mom and Dad’s tomorrow night. Be there at 7. No excuses.”

Ava smiled faintly. Lily had always been the more grounded of the two of them, the one who followed the traditional path—marriage, kids, a stable career as a schoolteacher. But despite their differences, Ava knew Lily cared deeply about her.

The next evening, Ava found herself sitting at the worn oak table in her parents’ cozy dining room. The smell of her mother’s roasted chicken filled the air, mingling with the scent of freshly baked bread. The walls were lined with family photos—snapshots of birthdays, vacations, and milestones that told the story of their close-knit family.

“So, how’s the new app coming along?” her father asked, reaching for the mashed potatoes.

“It’s...challenging,” Ava admitted, passing him the bowl. “But good. I think it could really be something special.”

Her mother, a warm woman with kind eyes and a knack for sensing when something was wrong, leaned in. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart. But are you making time for yourself? You’ve been working so much lately.”

Ava hesitated. She knew what her mother was really asking. Are you okay? Are you healing?

“I’m fine, Mom. Work keeps me busy, and I like it that way.”

Her mother didn’t look convinced, but she let it go. Lily, however, wasn’t so easily deterred.

“And what about, you know, other things?” Lily asked, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

Ava rolled her eyes. “If you’re asking if I’ve started dating again, the answer is no.”

Her father cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, there’s no rush, right? You’ve got plenty of time to figure all that out.”

“Dad’s right,” her mother added quickly. “You don’t need anyone to complete you, Ava. You’re amazing just as you are.”

Ava appreciated the sentiment, but it was Lily’s voice that softened her defenses. “I just don’t want you to close yourself off, that’s all. Jason was great, but if he wasn’t the one, then someone else will be. You deserve to be happy.”

Ava looked down at her plate, her appetite suddenly gone. She knew her family meant well, but the wound was still too fresh. Jason had been a good man, someone her family had grown to love. Losing him had felt like losing more than just a relationship; it had felt like losing a version of her life she had worked so hard to build.

Later that night, as Ava drove home, her thoughts drifted back to the conversation. Her family had always been her anchor, their unconditional support a constant in her life. But they couldn’t fully understand the weight she carried—the fear of not being enough for someone, of her ambitions overshadowing her ability to connect.

When she reached her apartment, she found herself drawn to her work. Sitting at her desk, she opened the latest iteration of Unwritten. The app’s interface was simple and elegant, designed to mimic the tactile feel of writing a real letter. She scanned through the beta testers’ feedback, feeling a small spark of pride at the positive responses.

This was where she felt most alive—creating, problem-solving, bringing ideas to life. And yet, as much as she loved her work, she couldn’t deny the ache that sometimes crept in during quiet moments. An ache for connection, for something more.

Ava glanced at the box of letters on her shelf, Jason’s handwriting visible through the translucent lid. She hadn’t opened it in weeks, hadn’t felt the need to revisit the past. But now, with her family’s words echoing in her mind, she wondered if she had truly moved on—or if she was just pretending to.

Shaking off the thought, she turned her attention back to the app. For now, this was enough. Creating something meaningful, something that could bring people together, was her way of healing. And maybe, just maybe, it would help her find the answers she was looking for.

As the clock ticked past midnight, Ava worked on, her desk illuminated by the soft glow of her lamp. The rain had stopped, and the city outside was quiet, as if holding its breath. In that moment, surrounded by her sketches and ideas, Ava felt a flicker of hope. She wasn’t sure where this journey would lead, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was on the right path.